Insanity defense

[Diana Dumitrescu]

No, I am not OK!

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Susan, Susan! - I awaken to the sound of David’s voice.
I feel his arm around the back of my neck, sitting me up.
Sheila is crying.

It’s ok, Sheila. Mommy is OK. - David comforts her, with worry in his voice.

My body feels heavy in his arms. I don’t want to get up. I am afraid that if I do, I will still be here and this reality doesn’t make sense to me. Panic quickly returns. My head is swirling and I can feel my pulse in my eyes. I can’t comprehend where I am or why I am here. Why is Sheila younger and why is she not scared of this situation? Why are they both acting like this is normal?

Susan, do you want me to call the doctor? - David asks.
Yes! - I say, instantly alert. Call him! I grab at his arm and plead with him. Please, I need help!
David pulls away at my sudden and forceful outburst. Little Sheila is still crying, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Mommy is scaring me! - she chokes through the tears. David pulls her close to him.
It’s ok, Sheila. Mommy just fainted. She’ll be OK. - David then turns to me, confused and slightly agitated:
Susan, what is wrong with you?

I look at my ex-husband, then at mysteriously young Sheila. She is clinging to David as he strokes the top of her head. Why are we all in this room together and why do we appear to be a family? And why does she look like she is four years old again? When I saw her yesterday she was twelve! There are so many “why’s” running through my mind, all at once.

As I stare at them, and they back at me, a sudden calm washes over me. I quickly realize that I must pull myself together or I will be hauled off to the looney bin. I fear that if David calls the doctors, they are likely to think I am schizophrenic, take me away, drug me up and isolate me. Play along. - I tell myself.

I’m ok, baby. I’m OK. - I say to Sheila softly.

I sit up and hold out my arms for her to embrace me. She slowly slides off David’s lap and gently folds herself into me. Her scent and the weight of her body are so familiar to me. Her small feet brush my leg as she climbs into my lap. This is my baby, through and through. She is my Sheila, somehow both who she was before and who she is as I know her now, at age twelve. She is still my baby. David watches me, concerned and unsure, as if I might snap again.

Are you sure you’re OK? - David asks warily.

I nod, but I am thinking to myself: No, I am not OK! I have no idea where I am, but they seem to. They are acting like this is normal, but I don’t know why. My heart feels as if it has broken in two. Why am I here with them? Where is my real life? Where is Mike and our sons Kevin and Chris?